Workshops and Streets
In the days that followed, everyone took their place.
On this day, deep within the Shen family workshop, the largest water-powered spinning machine suddenly emitted a terrifying, loud cracking sound.
"Crack! Snap—!"
Then came a heavy thud, "Boom!"
The machine suddenly shuddered, all the rollers stopped rotating instantly, the drive belt broke and fell down, and a burnt smell filled the air.
"Good heavens! The core shaft is broken!" an old craftsman cried out in alarm.
A screeching sound came from inside the machine, and the workshop fell into a panicked silence.
Ling Zhan's figure rushed to the machine like an arrow.
She immediately pinpointed the source of the problem—the sturdy main drive shaft had broken off in the middle!
Half of it was twisted and stuck in the heavy cast iron base, while the other half hung askew, pulling the entire base to a tilt, with broken pieces of wood and metal fragments scattered on the ground.
"Wrench! Wooden wedge! Spare axle!"
Ling Zhan's voice was cold and decisive, piercing through the deathly silence.
Apprentice Xiao Zhang hurriedly handed over the tools and a spare shaft wrapped in oilcloth.
Ling Zhan knelt on the oil-stained ground and rolled up his sleeves.
She took the heavy wrench, precisely gripped the large nut at the joint of the broken shaft, and with a sudden burst of force, tightened her wrist—
"Squeak—crunch!"
She managed to loosen the rusted nut with her bare hands!
She moved swiftly, unscrewing the large bolt securing the broken bushing in just a few moments.
"Hold onto the base! The front left corner is about to slide!" Ling Zhan shouted urgently without looking up.
Just then, Shen Yan burst in, panting heavily, slamming the door shut.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Ling Zhan was alright, but was then shocked by the broken shaft and the rickety base, and gasped in horror.
"Ah Zhan!" he shouted.
Ling Zhan ignored him completely, and was using an iron pick to pry open the half-broken shaft stuck in the base bearing quickly and steadily, making a screeching friction sound.
"Support the base! Front left corner!" Ling Zhan shouted again.
Shen Yan immediately realized the danger and rushed to the designated location.
He ripped off his hat and braced his entire back and shoulders against the cold, heavy, and sliding cast iron base at its front left corner!
"Well--!"
The immense pressure caused Shen Yan to groan, his veins bulging and sweat pouring out.
He felt that every time Ling Zhan used the crowbar to pry open the broken shaft, the impact would vibrate through the base, making his back go numb.
"Ah Zhan! You...you pry it open gently!"
Shen Yan gritted her teeth and forced out the words, "This student shirt... it's brand new! If you tear it, the supervisor will punish you by making you copy the 'Law Commentary' ten times!"
Ling Zhan pried off a piece of broken bearing sleeve, which landed with a clatter.
Without even lifting her eyelids, she said, "Shut up. Use force."
Shen Yan dared not complain anymore, let out a low roar, and held on with all his might.
At the same time, he yelled at the terrified workers: "Old Wang! Take some men and clear away the scattered cotton wadding! Want to start a fire? Xiao Zhang! Go to the warehouse and find reinforcing steel pins! Hurry!"
His shout jolted the workers awake, and they immediately sprang into action.
Shen Yan stared intently at the cold base, looking at Ling Zhan's focused and calm profile, and the anxiety in her heart was somewhat suppressed.
The broken axle was finally pried out.
Ling Zhan tossed aside the pry bar, picked up a spare shaft, and began the installation quickly and steadily.
The heavy components were precisely positioned, embedded, and adjusted in her hands... the whole process was smooth and effortless.
Shen Yan used all his strength to hold up the base, his clothes soaked with sweat.
Through his blurred vision, he saw the oil stains on Ling Zhan's hands and face.
The spare shaft is perfectly fitted into the base bearing.
Ling Zhan tightened the last large bolt.
"Click!" The bolt is in place.
"Alright." Ling Zhan tossed the wrench aside.
He let out a long, heavy breath as he pressed against the base.
The pressure on his back suddenly disappeared, and his legs went weak. He quickly grabbed the machine to avoid collapsing.
The student's shirt was soaked through, clinging tightly to his skin, icy cold, and covered in oil stains and grayish-black cotton dust, completely ruined.
He leaned against the machine, catching his breath, before straightening up and looking at Ling Zhan.
She was squatting there, carefully checking the meshing of the newly installed bearing with other transmission components.
"Old Wang!" Shen Yan called out after catching his breath, "Take some men and reattach the belt, be careful! Xiao Zhang, where's the steel pin? Find it and reinforce it right away!"
"Hey! The son-in-law is here!"
Old Wang and Xiao Zhang immediately responded and led the workers over to begin the finishing touches.
Ling Zhan stood up, his gaze sweeping over the machines that were beginning to resume operation, and landing on Shen Yan's disheveled blue student robe.
"What are you doing here? Is school over?"
He didn't answer.
Ling Zhan turned and walked straight toward the workshop gate, his steps quick.
Shen Yan paused for a moment, then quickly wiped the sweat from his face. Ignoring the filth all over his body, he hurried after him.
"Ah Zhan! Wait! Where's Uncle Liu? What are you doing?"
“I gave him a day off today,” Ling Zhan said, not stopping, and then threw him two more words: “Storeroom.”
The sound was half drowned out by the renewed noise from the workshop.
The warehouse was deep inside the workshop, but her direction was clearly toward the back door leading to the outside world.
Shen Yan's heart skipped a beat, and she vaguely sensed that something was wrong.
He followed closely behind Ling Zhan, watching her push open the heavy back door, where the afternoon sunlight streamed in, almost blindingly.
As soon as the two reached the entrance of a relatively quiet back alley in the town, a noisy commotion of laughter and arguments rudely entered their ears.
"Hahaha! Little beggar! What kind of rubbish are you carrying? Stolen, right? Let me see!" A boy's voice, with a hoarse, raspy tone, was full of malice.
"Give it back to me! This is from the workshop! Uncle Wang asked me to buy it!"
A child's voice, trembling with tears yet unusually stubborn, screamed in rebuttal.
Shen Yan abruptly stopped, and all the blood in his body rushed to his head with a "whoosh"!
He spotted it at the street corner immediately—his little bull!
The twelve-year-old child was cornered against the wall by two much taller and stronger teenagers.
He clutched a tattered gray cloth bundle tightly, his small face bruised, a bloodstain winding from his forehead to his chin. His new cotton clothes were torn and covered in dust. A rich young man dressed in silk, with a fierce face, reached out to snatch the bundle from his arms, while another shoved his shoulder with a grin.
"Let go! Did you hear me, you little bastard!"
The boy in the silk robe shoved the little bull again, this time with a vicious shove.
The little bull staggered backward, his back slamming heavily against the cold brick wall. The pain made his little face contort, but he still clung tightly to the bundle, like a small beast driven to the brink of despair, his eyes bloodshot as he glared at the other side.
"court death!"
A thunderous roar tore through the air at the street corner!
The string in Shen Yan's mind snapped with a "bang".
All thoughts of student uniforms, legal assignments, and supervisory punishments were instantly forgotten.
Shen Yan, who had spent years roaming the streets and alleys and was ruthless to the core, suddenly returned!
Like a leopard that had been completely enraged, he rushed forward in a few steps, bringing with him a blue whirlwind covered in oil and sweat.
Before anyone could react, Shen Yan had already grabbed the silk-clad boy who had shoved the little bull by the back of his neck!
His five fingers tightened like iron clamps!
He unleashed astonishing strength in his arms, lifting the taller and stronger boy off the ground like a chick!
"Dirty hands?!"
Shen Yan's voice was like a knife scraping across the coldest part of winter, each word dripping with chilling killing intent. He stared at the other's face, which had instantly turned a deep shade of liver from suffocation and terror, the roguish smile in his eyes vanished, replaced by a chilling ferocity. "Whose brat is this?! How dare you touch my son?! Huh?!"
That fierce and unparalleled aura was like a tangible icicle, instantly piercing through all the playfulness.
The boy who pushed the person, his accomplice who was about to snatch the bag, and several other teenagers who were watching the commotion all froze on the spot, their playful smiles instantly turning pale.
The air seemed to freeze.
The boy in the silk robe kicked wildly with his feet dangling in the air, making choking "hoarse" sounds from his throat.
He stared in utter terror into Shen Yan's eyes, which were burning with furious flames.
Amidst this deathly silence and terrifying oppression, another voice rang out.
Very calm. As calm as a pebble falling into a deep pool.
"roll."
It was Ling Zhan. She had somehow already appeared a few steps behind and to the side of Shen Yan.
It didn't rush forward, didn't roar, and didn't even change its posture much.
She simply stood there, her gaze sweeping heavily over the terrified children before finally settling on the face of the silk-clad boy being held by Shen Yan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.
That gaze seemed to be directed not at a lively, energetic person, but at a few stones blocking the way.
The moment the boy in the silk satin met that gaze, a dark, wet stain quickly spread across his genitals.
A strong, foul odor filled the air.
"Get lost," Ling Zhan said again.
"Wow--!"
Someone cried out first, and the children who had been watching the commotion scattered like frightened birds, screaming and tumbling as if they wished their parents had given them two more legs. The accomplice who had been pushed aside scrambled far away, not daring to look back.
Shen Yan loosened his grip, tossing the silk-clad boy, who was terrified, snotty-nosed, and had even wet his pants, onto the ground like trash. The boy fell on his backside, making a hoarse sound, and scrambled backward on all fours, leaving a wet trail on the ground.
Shen Yan didn't even glance at the fleeing trash.
He immediately knelt down, placing his hands on Xiao Manniu's thin shoulders, his voice unusually urgent and gentle, trembling slightly with lingering fear: "Where are you hurt? Does it hurt? Tell Daddy, where did they hit you? And who else?"
His rough fingers wanted to touch the bloodstains on his son's face, but he was afraid of hurting him, so he held his hands in mid-air, very carefully.
The little bull's tense nerves completely relaxed the moment he saw his parents.
His eyes reddened, and the tears he had been holding back finally rolled down his cheeks, mingling with the blood and dust on his face, leaving a dirty trail. He sniffled, pointing to the gray cloth bundle on the ground, trampled and covered in dust, his voice trembling with grievance: "They...they snatched the bundle! They pushed me! They said I stole something! I didn't steal anything! Uncle Wang sent me to the blacksmith's to repair bearings! For...for the workshop!"
He gripped Chen Yan's sleeve tightly, as if it were his only support.
Ling Zhan walked over. She didn't look at Shen Yan, nor did she look at the little bull's face.
Her gaze fell on the dusty gray bundle.
She bent down, her movements gentle yet carrying an undeniable air, and took the bundle from Little Bull's arms.
She unfastened the clasp, revealing a brand-new bearing sleeve, its metal gleaming, carefully wrapped in thick oiled paper. She took the sleeve out and ran her fingers over its cold metal surface meticulously, inch by inch, checking for any dents or damage.
After confirming that it was intact, she rewrapped the bearing sleeve.
His gaze finally lifted and landed on the little bull. The bloodstain on the child's face was glaring, and there were also obvious bruises and abrasions on the arm exposed under the tattered clothes. Ling Zhan's gaze lingered on the edge of those bruises for an extremely brief moment, so fast that it was almost impossible to catch.
Then, she reached out her hand.
It wasn't to wipe away tears, nor to check the wound.
Her right hand, smeared with engine oil and rough, calloused fingertips, swiftly and very lightly brushed the edge of the bruise on the little bull's arm.
The movement was as fast as a gust of wind brushing past the tips of grass, with a stiff, almost unnatural touch.
It can be withdrawn with a mere touch of the fingertip.
Ling Zhan withdrew his hand and stuffed the bundle containing the bearing back into the little bull's arms, his movements carrying an undeniable force.
She straightened up and turned her gaze toward the direction leading out of town.
"go home."
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